I used to hunt. Don't look at me with that scornful look. I used to hunt. Not hunting for girls o, hunting for animals. Was actually doing it with a friend. It got to a point that an American pilot came all the way from America, not South America o, U.S Of A, The United States Of America, and hired us to help him get some bush meats. He dropped us off at the forest with his private jet and returned a week later to pick us up. He looked at the bush meat we had killed and said; There is no way this plane can take all this bush meat. We will have to leave half behind. My friend and I tried explaining; But we did it last year. The pilot carried the two of us in a plane like this your own along with the bush meat. We convinced him and he said; Okay! If you did it last year, we can do it again this year. We got into the plane with the bush meat and it took off. As it approached a nearby rock, it could not gain height. It crashed into the sides of the rock and we crawled out of it sad but thankful to be alive. The American exclaimed; I wonder where we are! I looked around and said; I think we are at where we crashed last year.
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